The Raven and the Fox
by Chrysalism88
Summary: From their arrival at Hogwarts, Evie and Skyla, twin daughters of Sirius Black, are out to get their dad released from Azkaban. Friends with the Golden trio AND Weasley twins, what trouble will they cause? And if they happen to play some great Quidditch and prank a few Slytherins (*cough* Malfoy *cough*) along the way… What do you mean that wasn't part of the plan?
1. Demons in the Dark

**A/N: Helloooooooo, wonderful world of fanfiction! We present you with our third story, a Harry Potter fic. We already have a Percy Jackson and Once Upon a time fic, and we can also be found on two separate accounts: ArgentumAurora and Radioactive88, where we have a variety of different fics. Anywho, this story is about the twin daughters of Sirius Black.**

 **We're not starting with a background prologue, instead, we'll reveal snippets and information about the night Harry Potter's parents died and how it affected them as the story moves on. The first chapter starts when the twins are ten, before they know anything at all about magic or Hogwarts. We really hope you enjoy this! Please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :D**

 **Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter, otherwise we'd be billionaires.**

 **Song mentioned: Bohemian Rhapsody**

 **Chapter 1: Demons in the Dark**

 **Evie's Perspective**

 _Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack._ A tinny rattle echoed from the rapidly emptying can. Its contents were nearly used up. Luckily for me, my brilliance accounted for this. I stole an _extra_ spray-paint can. Yep, that's called "thinking ahead."

That's right, you can't tag a house with a demonic pentagram without black _and_ red. Heh. And, if I do say so myself, I was doing a bang-up job. There weren't a lot of things I was good at, but graffiti was a hidden talent of mine. Maybe not so hidden. _That's right, Mr. Greenberg, your exorcised arse can BITE me._

I hummed merrily in what vaguely sounded like a Queen song that I was most likely butchering. _But which one?_ I prompted myself. _Come on, brain, don't fail me now_. It was on the tip of my tongue . . .

"Bohemian Rhapsody!" I squealed, thrilled with myself. Man, how I _loved_ that song. Who didn't love that song? Idiots and gits, that's who. Somebody like my foster dad, Mr. Greenberg, for example. "Mamaaaaaa, just killed a man . . ."

The demonic pentagram was coming out quite nicely. It sat comfortably between the two front windows. I wondered how long it would take to kick in. If it attracted demons, how long until Mr. Greenberg stumbled onto the front lawn? _There, it's done_ , I thought proudly as I added the finishing touches. Some of my _best_ work on display. Too bad it was nighttime and harder to see. Oh well, everybody would notice by morning!

I should probably rewind a little bit, huh? You're probably thinking, why is the weird emo kid spray-painting a demonic pentagram on the front of a house in the middle of the night? Let me tell you something. This was not entirely my fault. Well, it was, but not for the reasons you think.

In case you haven't picked up on it, Mr. Greenberg was a real twat. He'd been our foster dad for a whole four months. He drank obscene amounts of liquor, bellowed an awful lot, he smacked me around when put in a pissy mood, mistreated his kindly wife, and worst of _all_ , he was mean to my sister too. Yeah, I have a sister, the not-so evil twin. If I was the devil, then Skyla had a golden halo planted over her head. She didn't deserve _any_ of Mr. Greenberg's crap.

When he _hit_ me, sure, I probably deserved it. I liked to rile him up and see his ugly mug flush a dark purple. If you want to know the truth, I often pissed him off for the sole purpose of directing his wrath away from my sister. Because _she_ didn't deserve it. If he belted me a good one, I'd deal with it, like I always had. I was a foster kid, I learned to deal with this crap since I was a wee little one. So had Skyla, but the point still stood. I deserved it, she didn't.

And _that_ is why I was spray-painting a demonic pentagram on his house at two in the morning. Just the morning before, he slapped my sister across the face, and called her "worthless" and a "waste of space." All because she hesitantly sided with his wife in an argument. Newsflash, his wife was _always_ right. Now, she handled the smack just fine, but his little jab took a nice chunk out of her self-esteem, and she cried in our bedroom for nearly an hour.

There was no way in _hell_ I would stand for that. I chewed him out for it and received a few slaps of my own, but that wasn't adequate enough revenge. _This_ would last, and it was an absolute _bitch_ to clean up. Plus, bonus, his evil twisted soul could be banished from his body. Always a good thing.

The front door slammed open, and there stood the robe-adorned glory of Mr. Greenberg, a chubby black silhouette against a haze of artificial golden light. Since Bohemian Rhapsody was still dancing around in my head, I unwisely chose to sing aloud, "I see a little silhouetto of a man!"

He stormed out onto the front lawn, and it didn't take an expert to see the fury written all across his features. "What the _hell_ are you doing up at two in the morning?!" And _that_ was precisely when he noticed the pentagram. "What . . . what the hell is _that?!_ " Evidently, it was a rhetorical question, because he didn't give me any time to answer. "You _didn't._ Get in the bloody house!"

I merely smiled at him challengingly. "Scaramouch, scaramouch, do the fandango-" He rudely cut me off as he gripped me none too gently by the shoulder and literally _threw_ me into the house. I suppressed a groan of pain as I connected with the polished hardwood floor. He slammed the front door behind him, and the noise echoed through the entire house. Since I had virtually nothing to _lose_ anymore, I decided to emphasize his anger, so I finished the verse with, "Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening _me-_ "

When I so innocently uttered I had "nothing to lose," I didn't know how good I had it. Meaning, the sweet, sweet time before the bastard _kicked me in the jaw._ Now, he was only wearing slippers, which was admittedly better than, oh, steel-toed boots, but the blow still sent me reeling. Pulsing agony shot through my face, nearly sending me into oblivion. Salty blood gurgled at my split lips, and as I spluttered it out onto the floor, I hissed under my breath, "Go fuck yourself."

Well darn, he heard me. I was up on my feet in a flash, and he as he hauled me up the stairs, my jaw still pounding something fierce, he growled in my ear, "You're in for it now, girl. I'm done with your shit."

As the pain began to gradually ebb, I found it in me to bite back, "I'm done with _your_ shit! You _deserved_ it, for hurting Skyla like that. I regret nothing!" I knew what was coming, and fear slowly crept its way up my spine with its icy claws, but I wouldn't dare show it in front of him. Not in my lifetime.

His wife, Louisa Greenberg, stood outside their bedroom door, looking like a deer in the headlights. "Rhys, you're too angry to deal with her now, please, just come back to bed and let's deal with this in the morning."

"Shut it, Louisa, this doesn't concern you," he snapped as he dragged me along, and she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

"Don't talk to your wife like that," I reprimanded him, but alas, it did me no good. He shouldered his way through the door of the bedroom Skyla and I shared. Skyla bolted up from her bed, eyes wide and frightened. Even in the dark, I could see the bruise forming on her left cheekbone. It helped remind me that this was all worth it.

She shimmied her way out from under her blankets as Mr. Greenberg tossed me onto my bed like a sack of potatoes, then flicked on the light switch. "Don't you move a damn inch, Evelina," he threatened me before exiting the room in search of his favorite implement. His beloved belt. His belt and my backside were mutual friends, if you will.

Skyla scurried over to me and gasped as she took in the drying blood staining my chin. " _Cachu_ ," she breathed, tilting my head back slightly for a better look. "Evie, why is he so angry with you?"

"Spray-painted the house," I said simply with a shrug. "It's a pentagram. Looks nice."

She merely sighed. "Why did you do that?"

"Because he hit you and called you worthless."

Her previous annoyed countenance melted away into something much softer, and she whispered, "You did that because of _me?_ " I nodded and forced a tiny smile, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. "You're going to be okay, I won't let you be anything but _okay_."

Mr. Greenberg showed back up in our doorway with the belt, and my heart picked up its pace. _This is the moment where I die_. He wasted no time in yanking Skyla up from my bed and parading her to the doorway. Her mouth opened wide to protest, but I nodded for her to continue on, and he closed the door in her face. "I'm done with you, you're about to learn to _respect_ me. Louisa wanted to foster girls, and I told her this was a bad idea. I _told_ her. Lay onto your stomach," he said menacingly, and I had no choice but to obey.

The first strike took my breath away, and I buried my face into my pillow to keep from crying out. Which, mind you, was difficult with my aching jaw. He was hitting _much_ harder than he ever had before, and I was already feeling the effects before the second blow. My poor backside received seven of these blows which left fire in their wake, before he became less picky on his targets. The belt started making itself known on my thighs and legs, then my back, even my _shoulders_.

It was worth the pain. It had to be. The revenge was worth it. _For Skyla_ , I reminded myself. _For Skyla, for Skyla, for Skyla . . ._

Still, I ground my teeth, and refused him the satisfaction of tears, even though it hurt like nothing else. My ribcage accepted a particularly nasty welt, and I involuntarily jerked away from him, rolling off the bed and landing onto the wooden floor. I hissed as my backside and back came into contact with the hard surface. _This is worse than I imagined_.

"Stop it!" my twin sister banged furiously on the door, rattling the handle he had locked after kicking her out. "That's enough, stop it right now!" He didn't listen to her, which didn't come as much of a surprise. He never listened to anybody.

My position on the floor didn't deter him in the slightest, just supplied him with a whole new round of targets. Damn, I underestimated him and his temper. He _really_ lost it. This time, the belt came in contact with my arms, my shoulders again, my ribs, my hips- you name it, he likely hit it. My entire body screamed in outrage, and I blinked back the first wave of tears. _Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong._

I let loose the first whimper as the implement crashed against the side of my neck, and it sounded pathetic, even on my standards. In vain, I protected my head with my bleeding arms and hoped to every deity in the bloody universe he would stop soon. My sister was still screaming at him, but it made no difference to me anymore. The sounds blended together into one messy melody.

Black spots danced before my eyes as the belt invaded my defenses and struck me on the side of the head, damn near splitting my cheek apart. I gasped and yelped again, but this time, it sounded almost animalistic. _Stop hurting me, stop hurting me, stop hurting me . . ._

Something exceptionally bizarre occurred that I couldn't even begin to understand. As I mentally begged him to leave me alone, the _second_ his belt came in contact with my right arm, an unseen force pushed right back against him. With a shout of surprise, he went hurtling through the bedroom door, sending it right off its hinges with a mighty _bang_. My mouth dropped open in shock, but believe you me, I was _not_ complaining.

Skyla, who had dodged at the very last moment, skidded to my side with tears sparkling in her stormy gray eyes. She hesitantly touched a wound on my shoulder, and I flinched away from her. "Evie . . . you're bleeding everywhere."

"Don't l-let h-him hurt me anymore," I begged her, and she knelt in front of me protectively, steel flashing in her moist eyes.

"Never." She stretched out her arms to guard me entirely, as Mr. Greenberg stepped up from his landing place. My entire aching body stiffened in terror. Louisa tried to pull him away, but he shrugged her off. With an angry, incoherent roar, he rushed towards us. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the absolute worst. It couldn't be much different than what I just received.

"Get away from her!" Skyla bellowed. Now, I couldn't begin to fathom what the worst even _was_. All I knew was Mr. Greenberg didn't get to hurt me again. No, the enormous wall of _flames_ prevented that. _What in the bloody hell . . ._ The fire singed Mr. Greenberg's robe, and he shrieked as he jumped back. The twirling orange flames made no hesitance in licking up our boring, beige walls.

All of our possessions resided in a pair of shabby backpacks by our beds, because we wanted to be ready to run away. I didn't really expect having to _actually_ do it, though. And _especially_ not because of the world's most random fire.

All I wished for was Louisa to make it out okay. Mr. Greenberg could do whatever he liked.

Skyla was a godsend. I was a quivering mess, not good for anything. Skyla, on the other hand, took initiative and quickly opened up our window and pushed our backpacks out the opening. Then, she reached out her hand to me. "Trust me, all right?"

I trusted her more than anything, and anyway, the fire was busy consuming our room, so I didn't have much of another choice. Without hesitation, I accepted her hand and ignored the pain raging through every inch of my body. It was _nothing_ compared to how I would feel if I, I don't know, _burned alive_. Now was _not_ the time to become the useless version of Joan of Arc.

Together, we climbed out onto the window frame, and I gulped. Louisa's flower bed below us looked like a _really_ long way down. I silently apologized to all of those poor daisies, roses, and violets. Hand in hand, Skyla and I prepared for the jump. We screamed together, "Geronimo!" as we leaped from the window sill, fire blazing where we were not seconds before.

This was totally going to hurt.

 **A/N: So, what'd you think? Like it, love it, hate it? Let us know! What do you think this will lead to? All we can say is they will meet an important character next chapter, and it'll essentially change their lives forever. Wow, that sounds dramatic . . . Anyway, please let us know what you think in the comments! :D**


	2. Knight in Shabby Robes

**A/N: Hello, fellow Potterheads! We would've updated sooner, but high school is more stressful now in sophomore year. First off, thank you for the follows, favorites, and a special thanks to our first reviewer, kate3110! Thank you so much for your lovely feedback! To answer your questions, they were born exactly a month after Harry, so they were born on the last day they could be allowed to be in the same year as Harry. So, right now, they're ten years old. Anyway, we introduced a major character in this chapter, and it'll become more clear the direction in which this story is heading. Without much further ado, please read, review, and enjoy! :D**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter=not ours. Evie, Skyla, Rodric and son=ours.**

 **Chapter 2: Knight in Shabby Robes**

 **Skyla's Perspective**

I rolled as soon as my shoulder hit the ground, breaking away from Evie. I could only hope that she'd been conscious enough to do the same. Despite rolling as best I could, my left shoulder was still throbbing more than it should've been.

"Evie? Evie, are you all right?" I asked, pushing myself up with my good arm and crawling to where she lay spitting out grass a few feet away.

"Never been better," Evie grumbled, but the cheeky smile that often accompanied her sarcasm was replaced with the beginnings of tears. _Physical damage is mostly welts and bruises, but there are cuts as well. I need antiseptic and bandages. She'll be sore for a week, at least,_ I thought. _If she's lucky. It will probably be longer._

I glanced at the house, wondering if I could make it into the back garden and snag some of Mrs. Greenberg's mint leaves before the fire beat me to them. Mint tea would do both Evie and I a world of good about now. But from the way the flames were licking their way down the side of the house, I wouldn't make it.

"We need to go, Evie. The cops and firefighters will be on their way here, and we look like the ones to blame," I said, helping Evie get to her feet. We were _always_ the ones they blamed. No matter what. Our backpacks had landed nearby, so I threw them over my left shoulder with a wince and threw my right arm around my sister.

We stumbled across the lawn, Evie leaning heavily on me for support. We'd almost reached the street when the front door flew open with a bang and a livid Mr. Greenberg stumbled onto the front steps.

"I swear, you shits will pay for this! You'll-"

Mr. Greenberg broke off in a fierce fit of coughing. Smoke billowed out of the open front door. Louisa slipped under one of her husband's beefy arms and ran to the neighbors' house. The relief was immediate, but I didn't give a single damn what happened to him, not after what he did to Evie. He could burn alive for all I cared. "Hell won't be so different," I muttered savagely under my breath.

Evie was sobbing quietly as I led her across the street, then turned down some other residential streets until we found ourselves standing in a field. A nearby hill hosted the ruins of a stone castle, but we were far enough away from the Greenberg home that it was nothing more than a bright spot several streets over, and a handful of sirens making their way toward the glow.

"Shhh, we're okay now. We're not going back there, Evie. Never," I promised my sister, rubbing her back soothingly. "He'll never hurt you again." Evie continued to hiccup and cry, and I sat silently beside her and let her pour out all of those emotions.

I wanted to ask how that fire had started, and if she could find words in her current state, Evie would've asked too, but I already knew the answer to that question. It had come from me. I don't know how, but I had been emotional, and just thought that I needed to keep Mr. Greenberg away, and poof, fire. It was too coincidental.

 _Where will we go now?_ I asked myself, scanning the star-dotted sky for an answer. We'd been through more than our fair share of foster homes. Most of the time, they were terrible families, and Evie got us kicked out by angering the parents. I couldn't be mad at her for it; I hated them too and was always eager for another chance at a better family.

One time, we'd found a really great family. Keith and Diana Long. Mrs. Long had been unable to produce a child, so the pair had decided to adopt. We stayed with the Longs for almost two years before Mrs. Long was finally discovered to be pregnant, and we were evicted in favor of their true, biological child.

I wasn't sure how long we'd been sitting in the tall grasses there when a flashlight stopped on Evie and I. I tapped Evie immediately (she was still sniffling on my shoulder) and we stood up, ready to make a run for it if need be.

"Evie? Skyla?" I was relieved to hear it wasn't Mr. Greenberg or an unknown police officer, but Rodric, one of the Greenbergs' neighbors.

Evie was tense beside me, backing up like she was getting ready to flee. "Wait," I commanded. "Let's find out what he wants first."

We watched in wary silence as Rodric picked his way up the grassy incline to where we were. His son, who was our age, was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you girls okay?" Rodric asked when he was closer. He'd shut the flashlight off, bathing us in nearly total darkness.

When neither Evie nor I replied, he eventually took that as an answer in itself and continued, "I'm not going to make you go back. It took me a while to find you. Now, please, are you okay?"

I swallowed hard. "We're fine." _Lie, lie, lie._

"Good." He didn't sound like he believed us. "We, ah, can't have you girls staying out here in the field all night, and it's not safe for you to come back to my house, so I've asked a friend to meet us out here. I know this is asking a lot of you girls after everything you've been through, but would you feel okay staying with him for a few days until we get this worked out?" Rodric was fiddling with the flashlight, turning it around in his hands nervously.

Evie was opening her mouth to protest when there was a whooshing sound and a man with pale brown hair wearing pajamas appeared in the field beside Rodric. _What the actual hell?!_ Evie's eyebrows jumped toward her hairline. I imagined the fluent stream of curse-littered questions she'd be producing if she wasn't so battered from the night's events.

"Hello, Rodric," the man smiled, offering a hand in greeting. Rodric shook it with a "Good to see you, Remus."

Then the stranger turned to us and fixed us with a kind, gentle smile, but it wasn't difficult to catch the deep sadness beyond. "You girls must be Evie and Skyla. You've grown since I last saw you."

" _Last_ seen us? Have you been stalking us?" Evie growled. I put my arm out to stop her, but immediately withdrew it as she winced. Damn, I accidentally rubbed my hand against one of her particularly nasty welts.

"Easy, Evie." He lifted his hands into a defensive gesture. "My name is Remus Lupin. I'm . . . I was a friend of your father's."

 _Wait, hold up there for a brief little second._ This confirmed it. I was going mad. Absolutely mad. None of this made a lick of sense. First, raggedy weird bloke appears out of bloody nowhere after Evie blasted a grown man through a locked door without touching him and my pyromania awakened, and then he claims to know our _father?_ We didn't know our father, it wasn't possible that _he_ did!

"That's impossible," I informed him, shoving my doubts to the back of my mind. "We never met our dad. That's what they always told us. So, we couldn't have met _you_. Or, rather, you couldn't have met _us_."

"Why would you be _friends_ with a bastard who abandons their kids?" Evie demanded in her usual blunt, straight-forward manner. _Nail, meet hammer_. Lots of people tangoed around the truth, but not her. It was quite refreshing, actually. Well, sometimes. "If you're friends with _him_ , then we're not friends with _you_."

This Remus Lupin bloke looked over at our neighbor regretfully, as if apologizing for our behavior. Evie's behavior, more like, but they couldn't expect us to remain courteous when our world was spinning out of control, now could they?! His gesture evidently did not agree with Evie's principles, because she mumbled none too quietly, "Pompous prick."

Remus's steady gaze flickered back towards her, and with a wry smile, Rodric bid him, "Good luck!" before retreating into the darkness. Whoever this Remus was, he would most certainly need it.

Remus took a step toward us, and Evie backed away like a frightened animal. He stopped in his tracks. "Get _away_ from me," she warned him, the beginnings of a fresh batch of defensive tears brewing in her steel gray eyes once more. "Don't come any closer."

He slowly knelt to our level, and Evie scooted back another inch. "Hey," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, and she couldn't help but cringe. Almost involuntarily, I protectively shielded her from him. "Hey, it'll be all right. I'm not here to hurt you. Hey, Evie, I won't hurt you. Nor you, Skyla. I'm here to help you. But I can't help you from over here."

She didn't buy it for a single second, and instead, buried her head into her welted, bleeding arms. "You're lying," came a muffled mumble. "Go 'way. Don't need your help. Got it covered. 'm fine."

"You're nowhere near fine," he sighed. It was my time to take charge. Bolting to my feet, I stalked past him and blatantly jerked my head in a gesture unambiguously asking him to follow.

He complied, and we stepped away far enough for my sister to be unable to eavesdrop. "Who _are_ you?" I asked seriously.

"Remus Lupin, as I sai-"

"No," I cut him off with a building impatience, and he fell silent. It was _my_ time to shine. "I know your name. That doesn't mean I know who you are, and that doesn't mean you get out of telling me. Look, _Remus_ , a lot of strange things of happened tonight, and most of them bad. You poofed out of nowhere, and if I weren't so tired, I'd have a real problem with that. All I know is my sister got seriously hurt tonight, and I'll be _damned_ if I let you hurt her even more."

He took a few moments to absorb all that, and eyed me weirdly. "Can you tell me what happened to her?"

I didn't want to relive all that, but I did, on the off chance that _maybe_ he could find a way to help. "She did something . . . bad, but now's not the time to delve into that. She didn't deserve what she got. First, he was just belting her hard like any other kid," he visibly blanched at that, "but then I think he got even more angry and started hurting her everywhere else. I don't know. I wasn't in there. I just . . . heard." A deep shudder ran through me at the awful memory. "She made it stop, though, but . . ."

"You can't properly explain it?" he finished for me with a knowing look.

I nodded grudgingly. "She sent him flying through the door. And then when I was in there, a fire started out of _nowhere._ And . . . I think I may have started it."

He nodded, and led me back to where Evie sat shaking in the grass. He didn't even seem surprised.

"Okay Evie, I need you to listen to me. We need to get out of here right now. We don't have much time. I'm going to fix you up, and then we're going to go back to my house. We'll work everything out in the morning," Lupin commanded, kneeling down to her level once more. This time, it was definitely _not_ a request.

Giving Evie no time to protest, he produced a twig from his pajama pocket, muttered something, and waved it over Evie's entire form. Like magic, her cuts shrank and her bruises faded before our eyes. Evie's jaw dropped to the grass. I wasn't too far off.

Standing up, Lupin brushed off his robes as if that little healing stunt of his was absolutely nothing. He pocketed his twig. "Okay, let's go girls. I apologize in advance, this might make your stomachs a little queasy."

I had no time to question that, nor back away or defend myself. I was still in a daze from the latest impossibility. Lupin grabbed each of our arms, and suddenly the world was spinning, and I felt like my entire body was being forced to fit through a drainage pipe. I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating . . .

Then, we were standing in a tattered living room. One I'd never seen before in my life. Evie promptly leaned over and vomited all over the rug. It wasn't too attractive in the first place, so it might've even been an improvement. Lupin didn't seem concerned by this. A form of interior decorating, I supposed.

Joking aside, _what the bloody hell was that?_ I rounded on him, censoring myself at the last second. "What was that?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." Of course he'd say that. Knee-jerk, _lazy_ response. I'd believe just about _anything_ after this tragic chain of events.

"You can bloody well try!" Evie coughed out through mouthfuls of sick and spit.

Lupin sighed; a long, mournful sound. I knew that sigh. The sigh adults liked to breathe out when they were frustrated and children were inconveniencing with our curiosity. I was _beyond_ sick of that sigh. "It's a kind of magic. I'd rather explain it in the morning, when everyone's rested and thinking clearly."

Magic. Well, it wasn't much crazier than everything else. Why not? I couldn't think of another explanation. "So you'd like us to just say 'Okay' and sleep in your house for tonight? A stranger's house?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Lupin, grasping my view of the situation, cringed slightly.

"Yes?" he tried.

I continued to stare at him, entirely unamused, until he relented and sighed _yet again_ , "I know it sounds bad. But where else do you have to go?"

"Rodric's house? At least he's our neighbor, for fuck's sake, and not some random stranger who bloody poofed us onto a hillside!" Evie shouted, still holding her stomach and leaning over Lupin's now ruined rug. "Oh sweet Jesus, kill me _now_."

I contemplated the situation. Lupin was right: we didn't have anywhere else we could go. Evie was sick, and we'd only met Rodric on one or two occasions. We hardly knew him any more than we knew Lupin. As bad as it sounded, Lupin's house was our best option.

I shared a look with Evie, and in a fraction of a second, I knew we'd reached no terms of agreement whatsoever.

"We're not staying here," she said at the exact tame time as I said, "We'll stay here." Evie shot me a look of betrayal, but it was quickly forgotten, as her face blanched a pale shade of green.

"Do you have a bathroom around here?" I asked. On the rare occasions that Evie got sick, she got really, _really sick_.

Lupin graciously pointed me to a door down the hall. He disappeared upstairs, thankfully, to give us some space as I led Evie to the bathroom and held back her hair as she continued to be sick for the next thirty minutes. She complained nonstop about staying at Lupin's house when it was safe to do so, as I just stared at the clock on the wall and hoped we wouldn't be sitting beside the toilet all night. At least Evie's injuries were better. And by the time she stopped throwing up, she was too tired to protest any more, falling asleep on Lupin's ratty couch instantly.

I hugged one of the shabby throw pillows to my chest, snuggling in up besides her. She was all right, and we were safe now. Hopefully. It wasn't like we had a plethora of other options. I hesitantly shut my eyes, dreading the next morning. I tried and pushed that out of my mind, and just focused on my sister's presence beside me.

Mr. Greenberg didn't exist, he never verbally ripped me apart nor slapped me, he didn't beat Evie senseless, she didn't blast him through a door and I didn't set our bedroom ablaze, a strange man never appeared out of nowhere and transported us to his home. It was simply Evie and I against the world, just as it always was, and I wouldn't let anything change that.

 **A/N: So, what'd you think? Like it, love it, hate it? How did you like Lupin's first appearance? He'll play a major role in this story. Anyway, please tell us what you think, we love feedback! :D**


End file.
